


Something out of the ordinary

by ravenpuff1956



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A steggy story, But it's a hard one, Did I Mention Angst?, Dorks in Love, Drunk Peggy Carter, Drunk Steve Rogers, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Kinda?, Magical time travel phones at least, Slow Burn, Time Travel, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24926278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenpuff1956/pseuds/ravenpuff1956
Summary: Peggy is trying to get on with life.She was doing a alright job at it too.Until she got a phone call from someone she thought was dead.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	1. 1947

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!   
> This is my first ever time writing a steve/peggy story.  
> I've been busy reading fics for the last couple of weeks, and I got this idea in my head and it won't leave me alone, so here it is!   
> I hope everyone enjoys!

It’s the night of the second anniversary of Steve’s death.

Like clockwork Peggy’s gotten incredibly drunk, at Howard’s flamboyant to the extreme party.

People deal with grief in very different ways. Howard buries himself in organising the party of the year, with a red, white and blue theme. Peggy finds solace in the bottom of a bottle. On most days of the year she’s strong enough to bare her storm of grief without it.

But today…no not today…

She’s allow to slip on one day, right?

Last year she’d ended up in Howard’s guest bedroom sobbing her eyes out into a silken pillow, Steve's last words ringing in her ears. Howard made her a bloody Mary in the morning, with too much vodka and a nice piece of bacon.

Tonight Peggy is trying to control herself. Daniel insisted on being her date. She should be glad. She should be able to raise a glass of champagne to her dead comrade with her new beau’s arm around her waist. Peggy should _not_ be finding every available piece of greenery to sneak a secret sip of gin from a flask she’s strapped to her thigh. She shouldn’t have spent the best part of the morning staring at Steve’s framed picture that she’s hidden in the bottom draw of her desk. She certainly shouldn’t be leaving Daniel’s side to step out a bit to ask god _why_?

Why did he see fit to take him away?

Two years has past. Peggy doesn’t know what hurts more. How quick the time is passing or how easy it is for her to forget that fact these days. Neither detail fills Peggy with any comfort; which only makes her feel worse, and all too soon her flask has mysteriously depleted.

Peggy makes her way to the bar like a new born foal, her tall heels slipping on the slick tiles. She swears under her breath- this would be a hell of a lot easier if the room wouldn’t stop spinning.

“A top up please, of whatever you want,” Peggy slurs at the bartender, slamming her flask on the bar. Her tongue feels thick and heavy. The young bartender’s hair is blonde, this eyes are dark brown. Brown eyes. And the hair; not quite right.

Not right at all. It’s all wrong.

“Close, but no cigar,” Peggy giggles, although traitorous tears prick at her eyes. She’ll never forget what he looks like- her picture and the universes obsession with _Captain America_ makes it impossible. But the shade of his hair, the tenor of his voice. Already those precious memories are beginning to fade.

“Whoa Peg,” A familiar voice yaps, “I think it’s about time I took you home, eh?” Peggy blinks up at Daniel’s concerned gaze. His jaw is blurry at the edges, and he jolts backwards as she reaches out to touch it.

“Let her have another,” An equally pissed Howard calls from the other side of the bar- his eyes bright and shiny, a glass of something in his fist.

“She’s Cap’s girl, she needs a distraction,” Howard smiles wetly, before downing the rest of his glass like a dying man.

Peggy hiccups. She was Cap’s girl. But what about Steve? Is she still Steve’s girl?

She takes in Howard, who’s practically slumped over in his chair. They’re both a wreck, and yet seemingly everyone else is having the time of their lives. The bands music pounds in her ears. Howard's house is fit to bursting, people Peggy has never seen before dance around them large smiles smacked on their faces. They're all _fine_ , the smug bastards. Peggy hopes the way she's dabbing at her wet cheeks is subtle. Who, out of the hundreds of patrons at his party knew _Steve_?

“Jarvis, catch Howard will you?” Daniel is saying, “He doesn’t look so good,”

“Yes sir,” Jarvis answers sadly, “Are you taking Miss Carter home?”

“I think it would be best,” Daniel replies and a warm arm loops itself around her waist. It’s comforting. But it’s not large enough to be Steve’s. Or small. It depends which Steve she’s thinking of.

“Which Steve?” Peggy laughs at her own little inside joke, as they slowly make their way out of Howard’s Party house and into an awaiting car. Her hair keeps catching on her lipstick, which is odd because she swears she wore it up.

“It’s this one,” Daniel points out the black plated vehicle, “And it’s Daniel,” His voice is dragging somewhat, like an army tank rolling in mud.

“I know,” Peggy nods dumbly, collapsing into the car and resting her spinning head against the cool window.

\---------------------------

God knows how they make it up her apartments stairs, but eventually Peggy is leaning against a comfortable wall watching Daniel play with her key in its lock. He must have had a few as well, because he’s normally dextrous fingers are struggling and he’s swearing under his breath. Luckily for the balls of her feet, eventually he cracks it.

“Aha!” Peggy claps when her door finally swings open, “Well done!” She stumbles up to Daniel, fulling intending on congratulating him with a kiss. He ducks out of the way however, so fast his crutch bangs against the wall.

“Night cap?” Peggy asks, undeterred (and rather desperately if she’s honest). Daniel winces at her sultry drunken attempts.

“It’s not me you want tonight Peg,” He smiles wanly, stroking her arm lightly. Peggy’s mouth falls open, but she doesn’t have the brain power to rebuff him.

“I’ll check in on you tomorrow, alright?” Daniel says softly, giving her a small push to her apartments door, “Have some water and get some sleep,” Peggy frowns at his orders, passing him in what she hopes is an imperious manner. He manages to shut the door before she can slam it, and that does nothing for her temper.

“Arsehole!” Peggy announces to her empty flat, and she flings her purse down onto the ground. Daniels rejection stung, and the dizzy knowledge that she somewhat deserves it stings even more.

Peggy stumbles to bed, kicks off only her heels before sliding under her covers. LA is hot and humid, but not even the air, plus her sheets, as well as a blanket could make her warm up. Loneliness cools her veins. A few tears squeeze out of Peggy’s eyelids. She just wanted Daniel to warm her up for a little while. Alcohol was also effective at melting her, as was the crush of people at Howard’s party…

But now she’s just cold and sad.

Sadder, than cold.

And lonelier more than anything.

Peggy’s properly crying now, her pillowcase running with lines of black and red. Her throaty sob echoes round the room, an ugly sound that doesn’t sound like her at all. But she can’t stop, and soon her throat is raw. _Goddammit._ So much for not crying this year. Perhaps next year will be easier... Peggy curls up in a defeated ball. 

_Ring, ring._

Peggy rubs her surely red, and certainly snotty, nose against her mattress. Who the hell is calling at this time of night? On this particular night?

_Ring, ring._

If it’s Howard, she’ll kill him. Daniel she’ll kill him. Jarvis… punch him maybe? Peggy can’t decide. Her brain is foggy, and she just wants to cry in peace.

_Ring, ring._

Setting up her phone by the side of her bed made sense when she did it (SSR always called when she finally made time to nap). But now Peggy’s honestly considering throwing it through her wall. She slaps her hand on the bedside table, feeling around angrily till she finally curls her fingers around the ruby red receiver.

“What?” Peggy spits down the phone.

“Peggy?” The voice at the other end asks. There’s no familiar crackles that are usually embezzled in the line, and she’s able to hear him loud and clear. Her cool fingers slip round the phone.

“Steve?” Peggy asks, her voice high and childlike.

“Peg,” The man who sounds like Steve replies happily. A flash of memory, his warm smile, hits Peggy like a cruel slap.

“Howard, I swear to god if this is some joke,” Peggy cries, anger boiling up inside her gut again. It would be just like him the twat. 'I've been playing around in the lab, and I've found away to create his exact tone'. 

“Is Howard there too?” Steve asks with keen interest, and also with a hint of something sad, ”I’d like to speak to Howard, not as much as I wanted to talk to you of course,” Peggy’s eyebrows furrow. Steve’s words are slurring together, moulding into each other a little too smoothly.

“Steve are you drunk?” Peggy asks him, sinking into her pillows. Steve chuckles and her heart skips a beat. She’d forgotten how deep his voice was.

Is?

Was?

What the _hell_ is going on?

“A little,” Steve admits with a hum, completely unabashed. She's like a hedgehog drunk- prickly and ready for a fight. He sounds loose and loopy. A free Steve. 

“I thought you couldn’t get drunk,” Peggy asks cradling the receiver closer to her ear.

“I’ve still got some ‘magical booze’ left over that Thor gave me ages ago,” Steve explains like he’s saying something that makes sense, “I thought, under the circumstances, now would be the right time to use it,” Peggy laughs, a bit too loud for a bit too long. She’s having a conversation with a dead man. God knows why her subconscious has decided to make Steve talk about Norse gods like they are real. Maybe next he'll start going on about leprechauns. 

“I’ve missed your laugh,” Steve murmurs, a dark grumble that twists her insides. Peggy shuts her eyes. It’s something she used to do. Pretend he was there lying next to her on the mattress, too nervous to touch her. It’s so much easier to imagine when she can hear him breathing right in her ear.

“I’ve missed you Steve,” Peggy admits with a wet tremor in her voice.

“Peggy,” Steve says her name again, like he can’t believe she’s real.

“Why have you called me?” Peggy asks curiously. Is this her conscience, vividly telling her to let him go? Or her unruly heart about to tell her to hold on as tight as she can?

“Well half the universe is dead, Bucky, Sam and Wanda- so many people Peggy,” Steve’s voice is hardening. Peggy sucks in a breath. He sounds older than she first thought. Like her Steve, but also not like him at all. A Steve who’s been through more than world war two and diving into an icy sea. But how could that even be possible?

Especially because he’s _dead_.

“I fucked up Peggy, I thought I could do it, but I couldn’t,” Steve sounds like he’s crying now too, “We failed, I failed and I really, really needed to hear your voice,” Peggy has been successfully stunned into silence.

Steve never swore in front of her. Ever. Especially not something so crude like ‘fuck’, although some of her junior officers slipped up around her at times. Steve is sobbing softly on the other line. It physically hurts her heart, even though she has no idea what he’s talking about. The war? James died yes. Millions did. But certainly not half the planet. And who the hell is Sam and Wanda?

Steve is still crying.

“Shh… I’m here darling,” Peggy coos, not wanting to hear him in pain any longer. Steve sniffs loudly, his cries abruptly subsiding.

“Darling?” He asks slowly, his American vowels testing the word cautiously, “You never called me ‘ _darling_ ’” Peggy bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. She’s suddenly incredible sober.

“I’ve been calling you that for a while now,” She admits- he’s the only one she’d admit that to.

One should not have pet names for someone they’ve let go of. Peggy's been trying to work on it, but it's so damn hard to forget. Especially when she can physically hear him.

“Why didn’t I get to hear it?” Steve almost growls, like he’s angry at her.

”You-you’re not here Steve!” Peggy tries not to whine, but it’s so damn hard.

“I know Peg,” Steve sounds incredibly tired. And just as lonely as she feels, “I wish I was there- wherever you are- too,” Peggy takes a sharp breath. Why is he talking like she’s the one who has gone away? Is he hidden somewhere? Captured from a left over Hydra spy? Have they managed to convince him that the war is hopeless? That she and all those other people died on his watch?

“Steve- the war is over,” Peggy tells him fervently, “You can come home,”

‘To me’ is left unspoken, but it hangs in the air between them, as heavy as lead.

“We won then, Peggy,” Steve replies brokenly, “Now I’m afraid we’ve lost,” Peggy sighs.

This must be a dream. A fragment of her grief stricken imagination. Why else would he be talking about the war like it happened a million years ago? Besides, Steve would have manged to at least get at note to them by now. Peggy's sure of it. Steve is dead. Gone. He's not coming back.

Except for giving her a phone call apparently. 

“It’s all going to be okay,” Peggy finally whispers. Though whether she’s telling Steve or herself, she honestly couldn’t say. She hears Steve swallow.

“Thanks for picking up Peggy,” Steve says so softly that Peggy can’t help but shiver.

“Anytime,” She answers simply back.

They don’t speak after that. Peggy eventually falls asleep, but she never loses the notion that Steve gas out down the phone. Her heavy eyelids shut to his soft measured breathing. She hasn’t slept so well in a long time.

\----------------------------

Peggy wakes up at noon to Jarvis pulling back her curtains. She sits up groggily. Her pillows are a mess and covered in all types of stains. There’s an extremely ladylike puddle of drool on her mattress. Her phone receiver is lying on the floor; a thin squeak still admitting from it’s speaker.

“Good morning Miss Carter,” Jarvis says with a terse smile. He sits a cup of steaming tea on her dressing table.

“That better have whisky in it,” Peggy says in way of greeting. Her head is pounding. Her phone is still lying on the phone. She is still staring at it. It looks alright. No glowing. No mysterious whispering. Just a dial tone. And yet she can’t stop looking at it.

“It doesn’t,” Jarvis replies in a firm ‘don’t you dare add any’ manner. Peggy hums with acceptance, though she’s not actually paying any attention. Her muscles strain with the effort to lean over the mattress to pick up the phone. She places it to her ear. Nothing but irritating feedback.

And yet… she could have swore…

No, it must have been all a dream. Peggy’s never heard voices when she’s drunk.

And besides that, Steve is dead.

Steve is dead, and Peggy’s moved on.

“Are you quite alright?” Jarvis asks, not without feeling. Peggy sets her jaw, before replacing the receiver a tad too harshly. For some reason the silence is more deafening than the endless noise it was emitting before.

“Perfectly,” Peggy lies with a pristine smile, “I just…had the strangest dream last night, but I’ll be ship shape in no time, especially after that cup of tea,” Jarvis shoots her a disbelieving look, but luckily discontinues his questioning.

“Mr Sousa is here, cooking you breakfast,” Her friend explains with a quirk to his lips, “And Mr Stark has invited himself over,” Peggy takes a deep breath. No rest for the wicked then.

“My upholstery?” Peggy asks tiredly. Her head is pounding. Hopefully Howard’s already raided her kitchen and her loft (For tomato juice and her stash of alcohol).

“I have given him a bucket,” Jarvis explains with a grimace.

“Right,” Peggy says, clapping her hands together. (Bad idea- her head rings like a bell), “Tell them I’ll be there in a second, just give me a few minutes to freshen up,”

“Of course,” Jarvis bows briskly before making his way out of her bedroom.

Peggy slowly makes her way out of bed, joints creaking and sits herself in front of her dressing table. She brushes her hair, washes her face and downs her cup of tea in one, before making her way out to see her boys.

And if she happens to avoid looking at her phone in the mirror; in any way actually, that’s her business. Because nothing out of the ordinary happened last night. Nothing at all.


	2. 1947

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months after Howard's Party, and after a date with Daniel, Peggy receives another call.

“Gorgeous evening,” Daniel hums as they walk hand in hand back to her apartment, “Did you have a good time?”

Peggy looks over at him and smiles. He looks so handsome, the soft sunset lighting up his dark hair.

“I had a wonderful time,” She agrees honestly, squeezing his hand tightly.

And she did. It was a pretty terrible restaurant to be honest. The waiters were clearly poorly paid, and as a result, were reasonably rude as heck. Peggy’s spaghetti was lukewarm and Daniel’s Pizza burnt, but they had fun mocking the establishment enthusiastically (all while planning on leaving their servers a massive tip of course). And when the put downs finally ran dry, there was Peggy’s new job for them to talk about.

“I can’t believe this might be our last proper date in LA,” Daniel sighs dramatically. Peggy rolls her eyes. Sometimes he reminds her so much of Steve.

She doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

“I haven’t even said yes yet,” Peggy says, elbowing him playfully in the ribs.

“But you’re going to, right?” Daniel raises his eyebrows at her. Peggy gives a non-committal shrug.

Howard wants her to join him to start a new company. One they can design, they can lead. No more sneaking behind peoples backs. No more annoying arseholes telling her what to do.

There’s only one downside. Howard wants to build it on the other side of the country. Peggy made a pact with herself that she wouldn’t go east again unless she was sure she’d properly moved on. She intends to keep her pact to herself. Just like how she swore to keep using her _completely normal_ phone on her bed-side table. (Peggy Carter is not afraid of ghosts- a phone is a phone, and a dream is a dream dammit!)

Daniel scoffs.

“Come off it Peg,” He says with a knowing smile, “This is all you’ve ever wanted,” Peggy’s heart clenches.

‘I’ve wanted a lot of things,’ Is what she almost says.

But she doesn’t want to ruin their perfect evening.

“That’s true,” Is what Peggy says lightly instead. Daniel nods at her words, visibly pleased. Peggy smiles wider. She was being candid. She can already see what her desk will look like- her director’s desk. Peggy’s feels as though there’s a balloon in chest, growing up bigger, and bigger. It's a chance to make a difference. Make her mark.

“Director Carter,” Daniel teases, before leaning in to kiss her. Peggy sinks into him. He really is a marvellous kisser.

“If only you could come with me,” Peggy sighs as they break apart, “That would make it truly perfect,” Daniel puffs up like a proud chicken, and Peggy can’t hide her fond smirk.

They walk for a bit in a comfortable silence. Peggy stares up at the descending sun as they turn into her street. She’ll miss LA, but she’s more excited on moving forward in her career. She’s so distracted that it takes her more than a few minutes to noticed how Daniel has deflated like a struggling circus tent; his shoulders slumped forward. He catches her staring and rearranges his features into a careful mask.

“Where are you planning on starting up again?” He asks, his dark eyes firmly trailed on the cooling pavement in front of them, “New York?” His last two words are said with resigned gravitas. Peggy doesn’t have to search far to reach what he’s alluding to. It’s why they always talked round the subject in the first place.

“Howard was thinking D.C actually,” Peggy replies lightly, secretly glad she gets to say so. She’s going to keep the knowledge that New York was extremely high up on Howard’s list tightly tucked away in the nook in her brain.

“I’ve always wanted to see Washington,” Daniel muses as they come to a stop in front of their apartments stairs, “Perhaps I could join the team too, euh? Chief and Director? We could get a little house somewhere,”

“That would be nice,” Peggy takes a little too long to say. Thankfully Daniel doesn’t seem to notice, giving her another passionate kiss before walking off into the night, whistling.

Peggy shuts her apartments door tiredly behind her, before toeing off her shoes. It’s funny. She didn’t feel her aching heels at all until after their conversation. Her skin, that was so warm throughout their evening stroll has suddenly grown cold.

She picks her way into the kitchen and pours herself a lonely cup of wine. It’s crisp and tart on her tongue, but it doesn’t make her feel any better.

Is it terrible that Peggy _really_ doesn’t want Daniel to come with her to D.C?

Well she does.

The house, them settling down together, maybe a car if they can afford it. That does look like where their future is heading, and most of Peggy is excited for it.

But what she doesn’t want is them working together. Not when she’s director at least. And especially not as her, him and Howard as the leaders at the top.

Howard collects women like other men collect stamps. Peggy would prefer the smart-arse not flirting with her, but at least the constant parade of blondes- both through the bedroom and the newspaper means there’s no chance of rude comments.

Well there _is_.

Of course there is.

Peggy is not naïve. She’s sure she’ll battle sexist comments wherever she goes.

But her known friend Howard, who rotates through girlfriends like other men do with their shirts, is going to cause a lot less stir than Peggy’s romantic partner.

Peggy wants to be director. Not the chief’s dame, as Steve would say. She downs the last dregs of her wine with a purpose. 

Ever since that bloody phone call Peggy’s been thinking about him more and more. It wasn’t- couldn’t be real.

But she can't shake the feeling it damn well felt like Steve was there.

“I should talk to Howard,” Peggy muses to herself. He’s the only one who could possibly know what she’s talking about, and be able to keep his mouth shut. If she told the commandos, Daniel would know by mid-morning.

They’re not the best at keeping Captain America secrets.

Daniel gets uncomfortable whenever someone starts talking about Steve.

Or at least when she’s in the room.

Peggy hasn’t summoned the guts to ask if he’s just as sullen when she’s not present.

Daniel loves her, she knows that. But Peggy’s sure he wouldn’t be pleased to know she’s hearing voices of her lost love. Which is completely fair. She would also not be pleased to hear if Daniel was hearing a lost flame of his’s voice.

But she’s trying.

Peggy’s always been adept at bottling her feelings deep, deep down.

Apparently her feelings about Steve are so deep, she’s begun hearing things. 

“Only the once though, Carter,” Peggy tells herself as she drags her tired legs to bed, “And it was a few months ago now,”

It’s a recent excuse she’s tagged to the end of her list along with; it was the anniversary of Steve’s death (ghostly presence closer to earth perhaps?), she was horribly drunk (easy deniability) and she was incredibly sad (people get sad enough to hear voices don’t they?). There’s also a few Peggy wouldn’t ever admit to, even with a gun to her head.

She wipes her makeup off with deliberation; her red lipstick was smudged from Daniel’s passionate attentions. Peggy’s kiss with Steve was a mere wisp of a thing. To think she made it chaste so their reuniting kiss would be one to remember.

_Ring, ring._

Peggy applauds herself on how she doesn’t jump. She does have to take a steadying breath though…but that’s neither here nor there.

_Ring, ring._

She tucks her hair neatly behind her ears before marching over to pick up the receiver.

‘It’s work, it’s work, it’s work, it’s work,’ Rotates round and round Peggy’s head. It’s her mantra whenever she has to use this phone, and for the last three months it’s worked every time.

“Agent Carter,” Peggy answers briskly.

It could be anyone.

Daniel asking if she got in safety and wishing her a good night’s sleep.

Howard wanting to set up another lunch date to work out their plans.

“Peggy?” Steve replies in clear shock.

An inane sound drawls from Peggy’s mouth, and her legs spiral out beneath her as she collapses onto her mattress.

“Peggy, is that you?” His voice isn’t bright like before, or even upset. Steve sounds almost detached. Peggy knows how he feels. Her tongue feels numb, like it’s been stuck in a bowl of ice.

Just like how Steve should be frozen in the sea.

“You…this can’t be real,” Peggy stutters, placing a cool hand on her burning forehead. Is she feverish? No. She’s not drunk this time either.

Then… that means…

Peggy feels her bottom lip tremble. Steve is breathing hard on the other line, like he’s just run a mile.

“But it is,” He’s got over his shock and moved onto barely restrained awe, “I thought I was dreaming after the last time,”

“Last time?” Peggy feels her blood pressure begin to rise.

He remembers.

So that wasn’t a dream either?!

Steve is truly there. But how? In some crazy alternate dimension where he survived? But then why is he so surprised and pleased to hear her voice? Did she die instead of him wherever he is?

“This is impossible,” Peggy states, monotone in her mindless shock, “You’re dead,”

“No- well yes, actually I probably shouldn’t say, I’m not alive- not for you- but I am here Peggy, I called you,” Steve blathers, reminding Peggy vividly of the time she caught him snogging Loraine. The likeness is so palatable that for a moment she can’t breathe- it’s like being transported back in time.

“I don’t believe you, this is a cruel trick,” Peggy snaps, her mind rebelling against the impossible truth, “Please don’t call me again,” Tears prick painfully at her eyes. Logic demands it can’t be true, so technically she should feel nothing. But lowering the receiver is the hardest thing Peggy’s ever had to do. Her limbs are stiff and Steve is still yelling through the speaker.

“No Peggy, please it’s me!” He’s screaming so loudly she can hear him even without her phone pressed tightly to her ear, “Don’t hang up, please Peggy don’t-“

Peggy slams down the receiver so hard her side table rattles. Her ear actually hurts from how close she as pressing the plastic handset against it.

“Not really, can’t possibly be, no…” Peggy whispers desperately under her breath. Her cheeks feel unnaturally warm and her left leg can’t stop shaking.

It sounds as though he’s alive, somewhere. But not for her. What the hell does that mean?

_Ring, ring._

Peggy looks over at her vibrating phone, frog eyed and terrified. Her fingers itch to pick up the hand set again. The need to talk to him hours into the night is so strong she can almost touch it.

“No!” Peggy vaults up onto the mattress. She bounces on top of her souffle-like bed.

“I’ve moved on,” She states loudly to her persistently ringing phone.

The phone quietens, as though Steve has managed to hear her. But only five seconds of peace is granted to her, before Peggy is caught in an onslaught of painful chirping again.

“Give it up you bastard!” Peggy cries suddenly feeling an unreasonable bout of rage towards him. She gives her side table a sharp kick, and both it and her phone topple to the floor with an angry clatter. The phone cord connected to the wall is yanked out and Peggy’s bedroom descends into silence.

She stands on the bed huffing, silly tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m not plugging you back in,” Peggy tells the device resolutely, as it could possibly hear her.

She’s just going to leave it there.

Both it and Peggy’s last dreams of being with Steve can stay in L.A.

Forever. 

Yet a certain red phone somehow ends up in a brown packing box and is loaded onto a moving van headed for Washington, D.C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think!  
> By the way, I have never seen Agent Carter, all the details I've got from other fics and tumblr so please go easy on me! Sorry if I got anything wrong!


End file.
